


How to Kill With an Avocado

by viceroyvonmutini



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3971200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceroyvonmutini/pseuds/viceroyvonmutini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaw goes vegan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Kill With an Avocado

**Author's Note:**

> you can all blame tumblr user bisexualshaws for this. Go on. Blame. 
> 
> The challenge: Shaw is vegan (and John ditches the suits.)
> 
> The result: Root watches fondly whilst narrowly avoiding serious injury, John gets a gift, and Harold just can't even.

‘Root, referee this shit,’ commanded Shaw.

‘Anything for you sweetie,’ sung Root, striding over to the small table hands full with the last of the tequila shots, ‘what’re the stakes?’

‘I kick John’s ass and he dumps the obnoxious suits for a week.’

‘And when I beat Shaw, she turns vegan for a week,’ affirmed John.

Root handed out the shots before pulling a chair close and sitting down.

‘How about a third option? _I_ win and you both do your respective punishments?’ ventured Root.

‘And if we win?’

‘If we win Root has to do whatever I say for a week,’ demanded Shaw brusquely.

‘How do I get any benefit from that?’

‘Deal,’ struck Root ignoring John’s protests, not that he believed his feeble objections would change anything in the first place.

The three took their shots to cement the deal.

‘And no asking the all-seeing robot.’

‘She’s not a robot Sam.’

‘Not the _point_ Root.’

‘No Machine Root,’ seconded John, ‘we want a chance at winning.’

Shaw scoffed.

‘Like you’re going to win.’

‘Fine. No Machine. She’s not even speaking much anyway,’ defended Root.

‘Be still my beating heart.’

‘You’re so supportive Sameen,’ cooed Root with eyes that would have had any other girl swooning.

‘When you two are done flirting this is a serious matter,’ interrupted John’s deep voice adding the much needed gravity to the situation.

‘Yes _thank you_ for keeping us on task,’ replied Root, eyes firmly fixed on Shaw however, ‘so if I can’t use the Machine…’ her eyes glanced at the board in front of her, ‘how _exactly_ do you play Settlers of Catan?’

Shaw raised an eyebrow.

‘What kind of nerd _are_ you?’

 

* * *

 

‘Ms. Shaw as much as I appreciate your help with this matter perhaps if you could be a little less vicious,’ ventured Finch as Shaw made her way down into the subway.

‘You got a problem with my methods send John,’ dismissed Shaw, sitting on the wooden bench as she began to examine her abdomen.

‘Can you hand me the medical stuff?’

Finch spun round in his chair.

‘You were hit?’

‘Grazed. The kit Finch.’

‘Here you are sweetie,’ chimed Root, striding over to where Shaw sat.

She placed a paper bag down at Shaw’s feet before kneeling in front of her, pulling away the prodding fingers and attending to the wound herself.

‘Really Shaw you should be more careful.’

‘Yeah well maybe if I weren’t so goddamn hungry I might be able to dodge better,’ hissed Shaw as Root disinfected the wound.

‘I might not be the doctor here but your protein intake does little to affect your reaction times sweetie. Don’t be bitter,’ chided Root, gently placing gauze over the wound and securing it in place, ‘I brought you lunch.’

Shaw didn’t even look remotely close to happy at the news.

Root lifted a container out of the bag.

‘Chick-pea sweet potato burger with a side of avocado salad.’

Shaw grimaced but pulled the meal violently from Root’s grasp, ripping open the plastic top and taking the proffered cutlery.

Root moved to sit beside Shaw, watching attentively as each stab of the fork came with unnecessary force and Shaw chewed with vigour though lacking her usual enthusiasm.

‘All I want is a fucking burger,’ grumbled Shaw mostly to herself, angrily shoving in a slice of avocado she didn’t even want but was too hungry to leave the barely-filling meal.

‘Protein. A piece of honest, juicy protein. Real protein.’

‘This is real protein sweetie, just from a different source.’

‘Yeah? Well you might be able to live off ridiculous salads and mushy green things but I like to occasionally consume something that doesn’t smell like fermenting dead leaves and leave the lasting taste of _grass_ in the back of my mouth,’ finished Shaw with a hiss.

Root said nothing, simply raising an eyebrow and doing everything in her power to conceal a smirk.

‘Mr. Reese have you infiltrated the reception?’ inquired Harold over coms, ignoring the two women behind him as their attention turned to his conversation and Shaw sniggered.

She pressed her own com-link open to enter the conversation.

‘Yeah John, how’s it going?’

_‘Zoe got me in,’_ he replied gruffly and definitely more than a little smug.

Shaw wasn’t deterred.

‘And how is that going down? Managed to get close to the target yet John?’

Her eyes glinted with satisfaction and Root shook her head slightly at her utter childishness. Harold remained silent. Whatever the children were up to, he decided, it wasn’t his problem. The less he knew the better. Probably.

_‘Zoe’s doing it now,’_ he gritted out.

‘Getting her to do your dirty work? You’re a disgrace.’

 ‘Now now children play nice. You both accepted your punishment,’ chimed Root.

‘Shut up Root,’ they responded in unison and Root couldn’t help the wide grin that spread on her face.

_‘I gotta go Zoe’s making a move_.’

‘Hope you can see from under that baseball cap John. Don’t let it block your aim.’

‘I was going to pick up some steak on the way back: did you want-oh wait.’

John cut off and Shaw growled audibly before stabbing a piece of chickpea burger, unsure whether to imagine John's thigh or Root's thoroughly amused face. 

 

* * *

 

Shaw came back from her run, pushing open the door to her apartment and was greeted with Root half dressed flitting around her kitchen.

‘You’re up,’ she remarked off-handedly, picking up the glass of water Root had left on the counter and draining it.

‘You wake up ridiculously early.’

‘You don’t wake up at all,’ shot back Shaw, refilling her glass, ‘those better be pancakes,’ she growled.

Root turned to face Shaw condescending look on her face and Shaw remembered just how much she hated the woman.

‘Sweetie you know you can’t have eggs,’

‘Then get me vegan eggs,’ hissed Shaw, taking a seat at the table as Root brought over the plates.

She came up behind Shaw setting the plate in front of her.

‘But for you I did some digging,’ she placated as warm breathe ghosted over Shaw’s ear and Shaw tensed at the proximity, ‘and found some vegan pancakes.’

Root planted a soft kiss just below Shaw’s ear and Shaw half-heartedly swatted her away, determined to dig into her rather nice looking pancakes.

Root could cook she’d give her that, and if the plate piled high with pancakes, syrup and blueberries was anything to go by this might actually be okay: the first decent thing she’d had to eat in almost four days.

As she took the first bite, she realized she may have set her hopes just a little _too_ high.

‘Root,’ she growled out.

Root for her part was happily watching, sipping at her fresh orange juice.

‘Yes Sameen?’

‘These are…’ Shaw trailed off. There were no words. Her body thrummed with anger; Root swore she could see the woman vibrate from across the table.

‘Amazing? Delicious? Delightful? Brilliant?’ sung Root.

‘How could you do this?’ gritted out Shaw, staring at her barely touched plate as if it personally offended her. Which it sort of did.

‘Do what sweetie?’ Root took a delicate bite of her own pancakes, enjoying this immensely.

‘How could you destroy everything I stand for Root? How could you ruin this? What the _hell_ did you do to my pancakes?’

‘Well I couldn’t use eggs so She found me this excellent recipe using soymilk-‘ Shaw mouthed the word ‘ _soymilk’_ in utter disgust-‘and organic cane sugar which I thought you might like.’

_‘You thought I might like’_ was mouthed in disbelief and Root took a sip of her drink to disguise the smile breaking out on her face.

Shaw scowled at her food before reluctantly tearing off another piece and chewing mournfully.

‘Do you not like them?’

Root was poking the bear.

Shaw glared at Root who gazed back completely and annoyingly unperturbed.

Shaw said nothing, instead taking out her violent anger on the pancakes in front of her.

‘How are you even eating them anyway?’ she mumbled head down in concentration as she presumably tried to will them into something edible with her mind.

‘Oh I’m not,’ sung Root happily, eating her own pancakes with delicate gusto, ‘I made my own.’

Root ducked as a plate of pancakes flew at her head.

 

* * *

 

‘Long time no see Shaw,’ greeted Zoe already sat the table.

John stood up upon their arrival and even after 6 days Shaw still couldn’t repress a snigger.

Shaw sat closest the window opposite Zoe, whilst John greeted Root who sat beside her.

‘I ordered you a whiskey.’

‘Thanks. How’s business?’

Zoe shrugged.

‘The usual: men are like rabbits,’ she almost mourned and Shaw nodded with a smirk.

‘You should see Sameen after-‘ Shaw drove the butt of her concealed weapon into Root’s ribs and Root grinned at her through the sharp pain.

‘What’re we doing here Root?’ asked John, distinctly uncomfortable as his eyes scanned the restaurant.

It wasn’t a fancy place, but it also wasn’t exactly appropriate for John’s current attire either.

Shaw sniggered again and John kicked her under the table.

‘Those Nike’s really don’t have as much bite as the Oxford’s.’

Zoe let out a giggle.

John looked at her like she’d just stabbed him in the back.

‘Calm down children I brought you all here for a reason, though it is nice to catch up-Zoe, I don’t think we’ve formally met but I admire your work.’

‘Likewise,’ responded Zoe appreciatively.

‘And She seems to think you might be of some help during this number.’

‘Yeah probably to do John’s job,’ muttered Shaw in amusement earning her another kick and a barely suppressed grin from Zoe.

‘How did you get him to wear that by the way?’ asked Zoe over her glass of Sauvignon.

Shaw scowled.

‘Root,’ she gritted out, shooting a glare at the said woman who responded with her ever-present smile.

If Zoe was confused by the vicious tone, she didn’t voice it.

The waiter came to take their orders.

‘I’ll have a chicken Caesar salad,’ requested Root.

‘I’ll take the salmon,’

‘A steak please. Rare. Still able to walk to the table if possible,’ ordered John, eyes on Shaw the entire time smug look on his face.

Shaw ground her jaw as a low growl escaped her and if Root’s look could get more adoring it would have in that moment.

‘And for you madam?’

Shaw’s head snapped to the waiter who almost recoiled at the intensity. Root leant over to whisper in Shaw’s ear.

‘Play nice Sameen,’ and Shaw rounded on Root who pulled away grinning softly.

‘She’ll have the kale salad,’ assured Root, placating the jumpy waiter with a smile.

Zoe watched the exchange with raised eyebrows.

‘No steak Shaw?’ she asked and Shaw’s hand clenched around her glass before she downed its contents.

‘Did John not explain to you what happened?’ questioned Root with false innocence, ‘it’s really rather a fascinating tale.’

_‘Ms. Groves,’_ interrupted Harold through their earpieces, _‘perhaps we could try and remain on task?’_

‘Of course Harry,’ soothed Root, ‘our target is the lovely waiter Timothy who Sameen so kindly terrified.’

‘What do you need me for?’ inquired Zoe.

‘I’m not sure yet, though you seem to be the only one amongst us with any sense of normalcy.’

‘So what’s the threat?’ asked John.

‘I’m not sure. She won’t say.’

‘She?’ inquired Zoe.

‘My boss.’

‘You don’t work for Harold?’

‘I’m more freelance,’ waved off Root.

_‘There’s nothing in his history to suggest any threats from outside sources, nor anything to hint that he may be planning any sort of murder.’_

‘So we don’t know what we’re looking for?’

Their number brought over their food, John grinning at his steak that Shaw eyed like a dog from her seat, ignoring the salad placed in front of her.

John took his time, savouring each bite as Shaw’s grip on her fork grew stronger, knuckles turning white.

Zoe stood up.

‘I’m going to talk to him,’ she announced, picking up her back and sauntering over with an air of confidence that rivaled Root’s. The number was working the bar mixing drinks for customers and Root was almost impressed as Zoe slid into easy conversation.

‘She’s almost as good as me,’ she observed.

‘Don’t flatter yourself.’

‘You’re so nice to me Sameen.’

‘I’d be nicer if I could have steak.’

‘You want some?’ offered John lightly.

‘Yes.’

‘But Sameen, we haven’t given the big lug our present,’ sung Root and this time Shaw was definitely confused though the glint in Root’s eye said she wouldn’t be disappointed.

‘We heard you shredded your last jacket dealing with the latest number so we decided to get you something.’

John looked skeptical, eying Root warily as she pulled out a parcel from the bag at her feet.

‘It’s from us both. And the Machine sends her regards: She gave me your size so it would fit just right.’

John tugged at the brown wrapping carefully, letting it drop to the table as he pulled out a bright blue Addidas Tracksuit top.

Shaw grinned.

‘I think it suits you,’ she observed, finally enjoying herself.

 

* * *

 

Shaw awoke with a jolt at 9am to the tune of her alarm. She frowned slightly at the late hour before taking a shower and getting dressed.

She walked to her kitchen and grabbed a coffee, scouring her fridge to see what she could eat.

Amongst the impressive arsenal sat a plate of chocolate chip pancakes and she pulled them out, grinning wildly to herself.

She found her earpiece and connected up her phone before calling John as she heated her breakfast.

_‘Shaw?’_

‘Wanna go shopping?’

_‘Why?’_ asked John tentatively.

‘It’s day eight.’

The line went silent and she heard some rustling; she took this time to grab some cutlery and dig into her pancakes.

‘You still there?’ she asked, barely intelligible through mouthfuls of food.

_‘When and where?’_

The two met in front of the Rockefeller Center, Shaw chewing heartily on a donut.

‘You’re enjoying yourself,’ remarked John, striding up in his trademark suit.

Shaw shrugged.

‘They were on Finch’s desk.’

‘What are we doing here?’

‘I swiped one of Finch’s cards. Platinum American Express.’

John raised an eyebrow.

‘I think it’s time we spent some of the trust fund don’t you?’ teased out Shaw with a grin and John let a small smirk grace his face.

‘What did you have in mind?’

Shaw led the way to Saks Fifth Avenue and the two browsed the selection. Shaw didn’t pay much attention as John fawned over a $3000 Armani suit, eventually buying it after disrupting the entire store to ensure the pants rested on the shoe just so.

‘You done?’ asked Shaw, chewing on a hotdog as John approached with his new purchase.

‘Finch would be proud,’ chimed a voice and Shaw tensed.

‘Root.’

‘Did you miss me?’

‘Yeah, like I miss soymilk pancakes,’ muttered Shaw.

Root smiled affectionately before looking over at John pointedly.

‘Time to go lurch: She needs you to take care of a number.’

‘Where?’

Root turned back to Shaw.

‘Not you sweetie,’ she hooked her arm through Shaw’s, ‘we’ve got something…different lined up.’

The two began to walk off as John watched, Shaw awkward in the embrace but not shrugging it off either.

‘It better involve guns,’ demanded Shaw gruffly through the last bite of her deliciously meaty hotdog.

‘Trust me,’ cooed Root, dragging her shorter companion along, ‘did you get my gifts earlier?’

‘No,’ grumbled Shaw and Root grinned affectionately.

Root hailed a cab, sliding in behind Shaw.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Right now? JFK Airport.’

‘And then?’

‘Trust me.’

 

* * *

 

‘Why the hell are we taking a flight Root?’

‘We’re going on a trip.’

‘Is this a relevant number?’

‘Something like that,’ replied Root airily.

‘We better be in First,’ grumbled Shaw.

‘Ask and it shall be given,’ sung Root as the woman behind the check-in desk handed Root the tickets.

Shaw tried to sneak a look but Root pocketed them.

‘Trust me.’

 

* * *

 

‘Try not to drink the entire plane sweetie,’ scolded Root lightly, watching Shaw pick up her fourth glass of complimentary champagne.

‘Why do I need to stay sober?’

‘Not particularly.’

‘Well then. Shut up and let me drink.’

‘She’s scolding you Sameen.’

‘She has eyes here? What is She, my mother?’

‘She has eyes everywhere,’ reminded Root, ‘and She’s looking out for you Sameen. Where we’re going you’ll want to have your faculties in tact.’

The innuendo laced in the tone was not lost on Shaw and she downed her glass.

‘And where are we going?’

‘Patience Sameen.’

Shaw didn’t drink another glass.

 

* * *

 

‘What the hell is this?’

‘This is your room key. Instructions are on the bed. Don’t be late,’ called Root over her shoulder as she sauntered away.

Shaw glared at the key in the expensive lobby of the hotel and wondered what the hell she was doing here before turning on her heel and heading up the elevator.

To her credit, the room was lavish and spacious. Four spare mags of ammo rested on the bed next to a black dress laid out flat. Shaw scowled before picking up the note written in scrawled handwriting probably just to piss her off.

_Reservation at 19:00. Wear the dress._

Reservation where?

Shaw scowled at the offending item before shrugging off her clothes and sliding into the form fitting dress.

‘Did you tell her my dress size?’ accused Shaw at her dormant phone.

There was no response, but the silence was telling enough.

 

* * *

 

A taxi had come to pick Shaw up and she now sat across from Root at a candle lit table. Root had waved her over, donning an elegant red dress as her curls fell lavishly over her shoulders.

Shaw looked good she knew that, but Root didn’t look half bad either.

‘What the hell is his Root?’ hissed Shaw as the maître d set down a margarita in front of them both.

‘You mentioned a steak joint once,’ began Root lightly.

‘I know where we are. What the hell is _this_?’ argued Shaw, gesturing to the low level lighting, the candle-lit table, the seemingly hundreds of couples surrounding them looking dreamily into each other’s eyes.

‘This better not be what I think it is,’ warned Shaw, voice low.

‘And what is that?’ teased Root, resting her chin the palm of her hand, eyes mirthful.

‘Root.’

‘There’s a couple about to walk in,’ Shaw’s eyes immediately shot to the door which, she noticed, was in perfect view form their table, ‘the woman works at a physics research lab nearby and has just agreed to sell enough Uranium to warrant a dirty bomb big enough to blow a huge dent in the Pentagon.’

Shaw’s eyes shifted back to Root.

‘The exchange is going down tonight.’

‘So why are we here?’

A plate found its way in front of Shaw and she looked down, faced with probably her all-time favourite fillet of steak surrounded by everything she loved most in this world to complement the perfect steak and her hand immediately went for her knife, not wasting any time.

Root chuckled as her own steak was placed before her.

‘Consider it a reward. For lasting the week.’

Shaw tore into her meat and the sound that came from her throat was definitely not family friendly.

She glared at Root.

‘This doesn’t change anything.’

Root smirked and Shaw knew that smirk. That smirk with that dress meant trouble and Shaw _liked_ trouble. Secretly. In a low-key sort of way that she would never, ever tell Root.

Root knew anyway.


End file.
